Back at '01
by BellaMarizo
Summary: Sequel to "Back at '91". This is about how Mac and Danny met again for the first time.
1. Chapter 1

_Thank you so much for all the people who reviewed my story. It's incredibly helpful to me as a wannabe writer._

_Before you actually read this. Please be advised that this first chapter is **optional**. It's too long, and you don't need to read this to fully understand the next chapter. __Its only a back story of what happens between the first story **"Back at '91"**to the sequel **"Back at '01"** which I am currently still writing. Please be patient._

_BM :D_

_P.S. I'm sorry for being a tease._

* * *

_**DANNY MESSER**_

After that night, he finally had the guts to seriously consider his dream for the last two years; be a cop. It took some research, a lot of quietly asking around but he found ways to pursuit his new and dangerous goal. He got all the requirements he needed, all the papers, documents and forms he needed to send out. It was only a matter of time before he'd get either an acceptance or a rejection.

He took some odd jobs so he didn't have to depend on his family. Old man Carmine actually took him in a couple of times so he didn't have to deal with his old man and/or Louie, and if they were looking for him but wasn't there Joey or his mom would cover for him. They were his support system, he was so grateful. They didn't even know what he was up to, but trusted him enough to help him through the rough patch. He earned and saved up all his money to start clean and new slate of a life. He looked for a new place to live, closer to the police academy and further away from his past.

When he finally got enough to put himself through, he made the decision to finally tell them what he planned to do. He didn't want to just tell his mom and his friends, he wanted his whole family to know. If he was going to do this right he needed to face the consequences. He wasn't going to hide. Whatever crap they'd pull on him, he'd deal with it. He wasn't going to be afraid.

One night, about three weeks before the academy started, he had dinner with his family. It was he, his mom, dad and Louie, for what he didn't know was his last family dinner. In the middle of spaghetti and meatballs he told him. He told him that he wanted to join the New York City Police Department. He told him about the jobs he's been taking up and that he's been saving everything he's earned to enroll. He told them about not needing or wanting their help and that he wanted to do this alone. He wouldn't if he didn't think he could.

The two other male figures in the family didn't believe him at first. They thought it was ridiculous. They never took Danny seriously. First a baseball career and now law enforcement? What was he going to be next… an astronaut? They only laughed at him. They always laughed at him.

When he told them he was serious and showed them his acceptance letter, which he got in the mail that morning. It didn't matter anymore if they believed them or not. They didn't have to believe for it to be true. He was leaving and he was going to be a cop. He gave his mother a last kiss goodbye and walked out of the dining room.

Before he could reach the front door, his dad had grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pushed him to the wall. Before the air could even be push out of his lungs, he was punched in the stomach and then again. His mother was screaming for him to stop. His brother just looked on.

He finally stopped and let the young man fall to his knees. He kept his head down, with his arm on his beaten midsection. He didn't have to look up to feel his father looking down on him. He was always looking down on him.

"You good-for-nothing little piece of shit." The man standing over him said, each word tainted with venomous disgust. "I should never have expected anything good from a _bastardo_ like you." He was just about to kick him when his mother intervened screaming and crying for the patriarch to stop.

Thank God for his mother, he wouldn't have been able to stand up. His arm was still on his stomach, which hurt like hell. He mustered enough strength to stand up and weakly walk to the door. He was just about to turn the doorknob.

"Go right ahead, be a fucking cop." He yelled at him. "The minute you walk out of this house you'll no longer be my son, you got that? I don't care what happens to you: be a cop, for all I care. You could fall off the face of the earth, good riddance… You'll never be welcomed in this home again."

He didn't look back. He didn't have to. He knew their faces well: pop's anger, Louie's indifference and his mother's grief. His belly still ached, but the only thing that hurt more was leaving his mom. He took a couple of seconds, just a couple before turning the knob and walking out of the house.

His last thought were of his father's last words to him 'you'll never be welcomed in this home again.' He reaches the bottom of the stoop and looks back at the house and thinks 'I've never been welcomed here.'

**MAC TAYLOR **

His last tour of Iraq was quite heavy, not as bad as his first but it had its moments. His platoon was in kinder grounds. They were stationed in a village that held mostly refugees and civilians. Their main objective was to keep everyone safe as possible.

The worst was just a couple of months in when a group of rebels came in for supplies. They devised a sneaked attack one night, which caused them valuable reaction time. The people in the village were mostly families a great number of children. The fighting lasted for about a four days. In those four days, seven, in total, had died: two marines, and six were nonmilitants, three of them were children.

It took them another five months but it was over. Attacks had significantly lessened and a large number of men and women were allowed to go back home, Mac was lucky to be one of them.

The minute he got home he went about doing everything he promised he'd do. He and Claire got married. He had asked for an honorable discharged. Thanks to his military background it was fairly easy for him to get into law enforcement. The only surprised they faced was when Claire's new job got them to move to New York.

In about six months of their marriage they found themselves a perfect way to make a new life for themselves. They got a place of their own. Claire went to work as the new head of advertising in the World Trade Center. Mac donned a new uniform and was a new member of New York's finest.

Claire was busy in her new office. Being the new head of advertising in the New York branch of the firm wasn't easy, especially when she was even new to the city itself. It took some time but she was getting the hang of things and was accepted in her new workplace.

Mac was becoming a great cop, CSI to be exact. He was slowly being considered for a promotion. His expertise in chemistry along with his impressive works of leadership in both the marines and now in law enforcement made him a good candidate for lead of the scene division or the CSI.

**DANNY MESSER**

His body ached. His family just dumped him. He's turned his back on just about everything he'd grew up on for a new place in a new environment he was raised to avoid, let alone get involved in. It was scary, but he knew this was better than any road he's been on. This was actually the first road his been on his own, and he was going to make sure it's going to make everything he's been through worth it.

He got a small apartment that he had to share with a couple of guys his age. He found other odd jobs closer to either his place or the academy. He walked around and tried to get familiar with everything around him.

When training started, he had to admit it was tough. He had to memorize everything from the books. He had to know every code and signals by heart. He didn't just have to learn how to hold and assemble a firearm he also had to learn proper procedures.

One of the things he was naturally good at was in the field of forensics. He didn't know law enforcement dealt with so much science, chemistry or even physics. He felt he had the ideas of a naïve child, picturing cops and robbers. There was so much more to this than he ever thought. With his talent and genuine interest in the subject, he didn't have a problem getting top honors in his forensics class. He was highly recommended for to be a CSI.

Unfortunately, his great record couldn't save him from his past. No matter how much he tried to avoid it, it would always find a way to come back and bite him in the ass. Rumors were running around about his family's connections to different crimes. It was nothing major at first, but slowly it got to him. The Messer name wasn't considered as infamous as Capone or Luciano, but it was enough to give him a couple of glares and whispers as he walked by.

Needless to say, he wasn't the most popular guy. He made a couple of friends, met a couple of girlfriends, but nothing too substantial. With the lack of both good friends and good family, he was back to his stubborn loneliness that wouldn't die. Whenever he got too lonely, he'd make an effort and visit the old neighborhood: get a slice at Carmine's, talk to Joey and his family and if possible he'd contact his mom. He longed for what Mac told him. He longed for his true family.

It was tough, but he survived it. He went in, did his best and graduated top of his class. He never thought he'd get here. This sort of thing wasn't even a micrometer to what he would have thought he'd achieve, but here he was. He was now a cop.

**MAC TAYLOR**

Their wedded bliss lasted well into their first three years of marriage. They focused on their careers and the new city they were in. Their relationship didn't hit any major snags, until the topic of children came up. Both have always wanted to have children. They've talked about it months before they even got married, but the timing seemed to be off.

Due to all the distractions life was giving them, they decided to wait until their fifth year to really try to have a baby. They thought it would be better, and in a lot of ways they were right. Both were succeeding: Claire just closed a big account and Mac was promoted to lead CSI. They knew they were ready. They've build a new life filled with new friends, good jobs and a stable marriage. What else did they need?

After eight months of trying they knew something was wrong. They researched and asked their other married friends who had children or had problems having them. They all had ideas or theories but none could explain one thing: Why they couldn't even get pregnant? Other couples would at least get pregnant and unfortunately lost them in the first trimester, but they couldn't even get one pregnancy.

They went to a fertility specialist and they were given the bad news. They were infertile. Stress from her job gave Claire problems with getting pregnant and Mac's low sperm count didn't help their situation. He should have known earlier. His family suffered from it. It was the reason why he was an only child. If only one of them had fertility problems they could have had a chance, but both? The doctor told them that a pregnancy was highly unlikely.

It was hard for Mac. He went to work daily and he had to see so many injustices in the world, lots were happening to children. He'd arrested fathers hitting, abusing and even raping their children. Mothers who didn't care and left them to fend for themselves, or somewhere someone else could take them. Bodies of children… It hit him especially hard. He asked himself: 'how could people take these kids for granted?' If he and Claire only had the chance these people had they'd love and cherish their children with all the love they could muster.

He remembered that night. Danny was right. Andrew was lucky to have a good family. He could only hope and pray it remained that way.

It broke their hearts. They had all these hopes and dreams to one day have a family. They imagined themselves with at least one by now. In the six months they were trying they were like playing house all over again: They imagined what their children might look like? Which were the best schools nearby? What would their names be? They had all this love and care to give and they had no one to give it too. They were in denial, but it took them more than a year to truly accept it. They didn't bring it up ever again.

Until one day Mac came home and saw a smile on Claire's face that he hadn't seen in the longest time. She was holding on to a photo. It was a photo of her officemate's family. It look normal enough until he spotted the baby in the middle was Chinese and Claire's office mate was an Irish-American.

She told him of her friend's adoption. It was fairly easy and she found out that there were so many children just waiting to be taken in by a good and loving family. She knew it would be tough but she had to suggest it. He looked at her again. She had changed. She had her hope and optimism was back and it only did nothing more but revive his own. That night they made the decision. They were going to try adoption.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you so much for being patient... Hope you like this._

_Sorry for being a tease :D_

New York was nearly killed. September 11 happened and it was like that the whole city held its breath, fearing that if it didn't it meant that they were acknowledging what had just happened like acknowledging their need to breath. It happened so suddenly. Out of no where 'boom', 'boom' planes came crashing, buildings were struck and the people were still in a state of shock. Though so many things were happening around them, everyone was in this automatic stand still, not knowing how to react to what just happened.

Danny had the day off. He wasn't expecting anything. He'd just had a night with a couple of friends at a bar last night. He was still a little hung over and didn't wake up until nearly noon. He turned the TV on and there it was. That first shot of tower 1 looking like a chimney top with puffs of smoke coming out of it.

Suddenly his hang over disappeared and he bolted out of his apartment building and out into the street. He was trying to hail a cab, but the moment he told the cabby he wanted to go to the hot zone, they drove off like he just told them he wanted to go to hell. He got a break when he heard a police car coming. He flashed them his badge and he got a free ride to the twin towers.

Mac was just reviewing his most recent case file when he felt something like a tremor. He didn't think earthquakes still happened in New York. Then Stella, his partner, rushed into his office and pointed out the window. It was like nothing he's ever seen before, and he thought he'd seen everything by now.

He ran out his office, out the building and into his car. It may not have been wise, but being wise wasn't exactly what he was trying to be right now. While he was driving, he repeated the same thing in his head. 'She's all right. Claire is going to be all right.'

They got there, the marine a little faster being closer. They found other people they worked with and authority figures that guided and did their best to take as much as possible under control. The brunette found himself with fellow a marine that was helping out with rescue. The blonde was assigned to the barracks and kept people safe and take care of the wounded. Both did everything they needed and could do, but they knew, in the pit of their stomachs. They knew that they couldn't do much of anything.

It's been about two weeks since then. The whole city was in this odd state of jumpy numbness, like they couldn't feel much of anything anymore, but they weren't keen on feeling much of anything at all.

It felt weird and it wasn't just because of the city. It was looking for this new sense of normalcy when everything didn't feel normal. He had to go to a couple of funerals recently and he had to act and look like it. That meant complete attire with tie, and a tie never felt normal to him. It felt like suffocation, but he'd be damned before he'd complain about something like a stupid tie. Here he was, after the funerals, now looking for a job and still wearing a tie. This'll never feel normal.

It felt wrong transferring to a different department after a tragedy like this, but he knew that after something like this different offices lost some of their people and needed someone to replace them. It would be tough. Though many departments were in need of new people, not all of them could afford them. A lot of people were laid off and there were more people looking for jobs than actual openings. On top of all of that his reputation, caused by his name, was still not hiring material. Who'd be hiring? Who'd ever hire him? Worst, who'd ever hire a Messer?

He hasn't slept well, if none at all. Who could blame him? After everything's that happened, everyone understood, at least tried to understand the head CSI's state of mind. He wasn't even supposed to be there. He was given a generous vacation time, with pay. The department would have understood if Mac took the time to grieve.

What others didn't really know was this was how he grieved. He dove right into work. The first week after the attack, Stella had to practically drag the man out of the office building and lock him in his apartment. By the time she came back to bring him his dinner and to check on him, she found him in this tired state using his last bit of adrenaline to review a few case files he took home and preparing Claire's funeral.

He kept himself busy by finalizing Claire's bodiless funeral. Her body was never recovered. When that was over, he was back in the office working himself to the bone. Not wanting to go back to their apartment that only reminded him of Claire, he practically lived in the lab, depending on Stella for his some necessities. Some thought he'd just come early and leave late, but there were quite a few mornings Stella found him asleep on his desk or the couch.

On one of these mornings, he found himself having to fix his labs short-handedness. The lab was grateful that they didn't lose any men to the attack. Some just went back to their roots and back as detective's in a few precincts. There were even some who left to go back home to be closer to their families and away from the city. Mac just found himself in need of new people.

He went to a couple of places in need of a brilliant criminologist, or at least someone who finished in the top five of his class, top of his forensics class. The first few places seemed good enough. They told him that they'd just call him.

The first place he went to right after his lunch was the worst. He was walking down towards the office when he saw the guy behind the desk talking on the phone. He didn't know what it was about but the guy was eyeing him. He walked in introduced himself and that was just about all he was given a chance to do. The guy, as politely as he could, told him the job was already taken. When he was walking out he saw another person waiting for her job interview. He was about to tell her the bad news when he heard the secretary

Secretary: Mr. Carlyle, Ms. Albert is here for the 3rd grade detective opening.

Mr. Carlyle: send her in.

Then he knew. He was just snubbed. It may have been his paranoia but he thought about the phone call just before he came in. It may have been something about him, warning Mr. Carlyle about the fuck-up Messer. Whatever it was he knew it wasn't right. He thought about marching back in there but thought against it, seeing that it won't help him at all.

He's seen about four qualified people enter his office, and he still couldn't hire them. He wasn't being picky. He was just not in the mood to do these interviews. He's sure some of them would be relived to know that they weren't hired by the ex-marine with a stick up his ass. He didn't here them call him that, but he knew at least one thought of him that way. He would.

He didn't even stand up to any of them to shake their hands. He just sat behind his desk, like it was a steel wall between them. He sat on his seat like he was strap into it. He hardly gave anyone a chance to fully show him any of his or her skills. He almost bit someone's head off when the guy mistook him for an army man instead of a marine, based on his uniform in a displayed photo.

None of them just did much for him. He didn't know what he was looking for but he knew it weren't in them. He's a logical man, but in the slightly unstable state that he was in, logic took somewhat of a backseat to his gut feeling and none of them just felt right.

Stella walks in after the last person practically runs out of the room. "Scare tactics?" she asked. He just gives her a small scowl. "Mac, you've got to hire someone, preferably someone who's not too scared to actually work for you."

"I didn't scare them." he replied expressionlessly, but in a firm and scary voice.

"I'm sure you didn't mean to," she said sarcastically, which gave her another scowl. "I know you're not in the best mindset to be doing this, when you don't have to be." he gave her another frown. "But you're here, by choice so you might as well be doing your job. "

He recognized this voice. It was Stella's firm and encouraging voice, or 'suck-it-up' voice. He hated to admit it but only two women can effectively use that voice to him: Stella and Claire. Seeing that the latter was no longer existing, his partner's the only one left he'd have to take seriously.

"Ok." He said as casually as exhaling.

"Good." She replied then walked out of his office.

He was going to his next interview. He walks in and was directed to go to the back. The labs were in a portion of the building that was a little sunken. It was pretty big and open but dark. The place was already making the most of the light by using glass walls. It seemed quite organized. The people in lab coats and experimenting while others were on their computers.

He asked a young woman where Mr. M. Taylor's office was and was told to climb the stairs and go to the door furthest to the right. As he was walking, he thought about what he had heard about this Taylor guy.

He asked some of his friends in the academy about all of the people who were hiring. He was told this one would be the strictest. Someone even went far enough to call him an ex-marine 'take-no-bullshit' hard ass.

As he was getting closer and closer to the office, he could see him. He was standing, his back toward the blonde. He may have been 5'9 or 5'10, around his own height. He could see the back of a crisp, clean navy blue pinstripe jacket. He had this clean cut, cropped brunette hair. Nothing too special or distinctive but for some reason Danny felt this uneasy familiarity. He could only see the other man's back, but it reminded him of someone and it made him nervous, nervous enough to straighten his tie before knocking and opening the door.

Mac finally stood. He hadn't noticed, but his legs were starting to cramp. Well no wonder, he was practically on that chair the whole day. He just thought to stretch his legs. He had the next interviewee's folder. It was from a Daniel C. Messer. He was 28 yr. Old and he graduated in the top five of his class. The green-eyed man was impressed, the young man even finished top in his forensics class. He seemed quite qualified, but everyone else was. Then he looked at the name again, Daniel C. Messer. He came across it before, heard it at least.

Other than those basic information's, the head CSI didn't have any other basis for which he was going to hire. That was how he wanted it to be. He didn't even ask for pictures, only their resumes. But this young man was at a disadvantage. He remembered receiving a call earlier in the day. It warned him of a young CSI that he was going to interview.

The caller said that this Messer character was just his wannabe goodie-goodie from a family with not so clean record. The man on the other line even described him as a fuck-up. He went even further by accusing the young man as a bug for his family. Some sort of spy, passing himself of as a cop to help others from his neighborhood.

This only made the marine sick. No matter who that man on the phone was, he had no right to be talking about this young man. He had no idea that this young man was, but he knew enough to know that he deserved a fair chance to this job.

'Knock. Knock.' Against the door as it opened.

"Come in." he said, before turning around.

"Good afternoon, I…" The young man on the other side of the door greeted as he poked his head in. Then the man in the navy blue suit turned to face him. "Mac."

"Danny." He replied just as dumbfoundedly.


	3. Chapter 3

Stella decided to casually walk by Mac's office. She just wanted to see if he took her advice or was ripping another innocent victim's head off. When she passed by his glass walls, she saw something that she hadn't seen since… since before September 11. It was something enough to make her stop and stare almost in disbelief.

Mac Taylor was smiling. It wasn't a big smile like a grin or a sarcastic one like a smirk. It was small, closed-lip and genuine. It was great seeing him like that, but she had to wonder what had brought that on?

She took a quick look of the young man who was standing under her partner's doorway. He could be the only reason for his sudden change of demeanor. She could only see the back of a charcoal gray jacket and slacks. He stood just about the same as Mac, and he had spiky, peroxide blonde hair.

He just stood there, still holding the doorknob. The door just a crack open, enough to let the better upper half of his body poke in. He looked at the owner of the navy blue suit standing behind the desk. He was a little older and a little more tired looking, but he was sure it was he. He just couldn't believe it.

"Hey," he greeted the older gentleman, both still not able to move.

No matter how surprised and flabbergasted the younger man looked, he was sure he looked just as stupid. It's been ten years since their last meeting. It was just one night, the summer of 1991. It was only for a few hours, but he remembers it well. He remembers their talks, their encounter and their sharing very well. It was nice seeing something good from his past remain the same. He matured a little, wearing glasses but he was still here.

"Hi." He replied. "What are you? -" He asked and was answered by this knowing look to him and then to the folder he was holding. Then he realized. "-You're Daniel C. Messer." He said as the imaginary light bulb above his head lit.

"And you're Mac Taylor." He replied almost like a question said as a statement. Then they smiled to one another.

Her curiosity was further tempted when the marine was nice enough to meet the younger man half way and reached for a handshake. She really couldn't get it. Who was this guy?

His handshake was still just as firm and confident. In closer inspection he had to correct his earlier observation. He didn't just look a little tired, he looked really tired. He didn't know what has happened to him since their last meeting but he felt that it hasn't been all too good.

"How long has it been?" he asked the brunette, his hand still in his.

"Too long." He answered. "Let see… ten years."

"Yeah." He replied. "It's been too long."

They finally let go of each other's hand. The green-eyed man politely gestured for the other man to sit down. The blue-eyed man takes his seat in front of the desk as the other sat behind.

"So." The younger man exhaled, trying to fill the silence between them.

"So." He mimicked. There was this short pause. "You're a cop now?" he finally said.

"Yeah." He answered "I mean, yes." He corrected himself, reminded that this was a job interview. "Graduated a couple of years ago. I used to be a rookie for the 83rd precinct." And Mac was interviewing him.

"Oh." He replied, easing into the seat casually. "That's good."

"Yeah it was." He replied. He couldn't believe how nervous he was. He knew this guy, a little, why should he be nervous? He was tensing up a little bit. He straightened his back, adjusting his posture. He fixed his tie. He fixed his glasses. He was basically fidgeting in his seat.

The man behind the desk noticed his discomfort. He couldn't figure out why until it donned on him: this was still a job interview. "You know… I've been interviewing people all day."

"Yeah?" The anticipation for rejection was as thick as the lump in his throat.

"Yeah… It's been pretty hard." 'What was he saying?' He mentally asked himself. 'Was he this desperate for an actual conversation?' "It can get a tiring." He leans forward, elbows on the desk, closer to him.

"I'm sure it can." He agreed. 'Where the hell was this going?' he mentally asked himself.

"We could rest you know." He stated, and the blonde gave him that old questioning look that asked 'Huh?' "I mean. We don't have to start right away… We could just chat first, catch up a bit." The head CSI had to ask himself again 'What was he saying?'

"Sure. Why not?" The younger man answered, not really completely understanding what he was agreeing to. "We could catch up." He still had no idea where this was going.

The two practically moved in the unison. Both relaxed. They took deep breaths. Then slowly and comfortably leaned back into their chairs. Finally they were at ease.

"So… how have you been?" the older man started the conversation.

"I've been good." He answered. "Like I said. I'm a cop now."

"I noticed, and the top of your class too." He replied, putting his hand over the other man's folder. "Congratulations."

"Thanks." He said with a smile.

"And your family?" he asked as cautiously as he could.

He took a deep breath, shrugged shoulders and shook his head from side to side. "A consequence I just have to live with." He answered with clear disappointment in his voice.

"I'm sorry." He said sincerely, remembering the rude phone call he received earlier.

"What can you do? Right?" he said, trying to mask his problem jokingly.

"Right." He replied. "So I take it you haven't found yours yet?"

The question didn't register his him immediately, until he remembers their last words to each other about family. "No, not yet." He answered sadly. Then they just sat there, quietly. "How about you?" he asked. "How's your family? How's Claire?"

He could see the older man's face change dramatically. He went pale and refused to make eye contact. He might as well have shoved his foot in his mouth. He's sure he must have said something wrong. He looked at the other man. He still had his wedding ring on. A wedding picture was still displayed on a bookshelf nearby. Nothing really indicated that his marriage as in trouble or that he was divorced.

He didn't realize it until just now. It was the first time he was asked that question. For the two weeks after the attack, he's only been to the lab and her funeral. No one as ever asked him that before. He was always surrounded by people who already knew. They would either automatically say they were sorry or just not bring it up at all. He never had to tell someone else that she was gone.

"What's wrong?" he genuine concern in his voice. "If I may ask."

He still couldn't look at him eye to eye. He only touched his wedding band, took a deep breath and gulped. "Claire's gone." Then he finally looks at him. "She died." It finally passed through his lips and added a crack in his broken heart.

The blonde was genuinely taken aback by the other man's admission. It was like his breath was taken from him and he didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry." He didn't even entertain the notion that the older man was a widower. "When?" he asked.

A lump in his throat was slowly developing. "September 11… She worked in tower 1." He answered.

He didn't know how to respond to that. How could he? It took a couple of seconds but he found his voice back. "Were you there?"

"Yeah." He answered, secretly grateful that he didn't push her further into the conversation. "I and a couple of other marines searched for survivors… you?"

"I worked the barracks." He answered, then paused. "It was really messed up." The bespectacled man breaks his silence.

"Yes it was." He agreed.

There was this pause. It wasn't awkward. It was just wordless, as if it were out of respect for what had happen. Both men were there. They understood. They didn't need to talk about it. They wouldn't be able to find words to describe that day.

"Can I ask you a question Mac?" he asked, breaking another pause.

"What?" he almost breathed out.

"What are you doing?" he asked, finding the courage to really look at the older man in the eye sternly.

He thinks about what was being asked from him, what Danny meant. "My job." he answers.

"Why?" he asked, almost a little teary eyed, unbeknownst to himself.

"What do you mean?" he asked confusedly.

"I mean, what are you doing here?" he asked. Then he leans forward, closer to him.

"I'm working." He answers, pretending he didn't know what he truly meant.

"Mac, you're running." The blue eyed man replied like it was an observation.

This time he didn't have to retrace their conversation from ten years ago. He knew what the younger man meant by his words. They were the same words he used and he remembers them perfectly, like it happened yesterday. "I'm not running." He replied thinking stubbornly 'I don't run.'

'There he goes again.' He thinks to himself. He may not have had any connection with him for ten years, but he can still remember how he handles. He's sure he's great when it comes to others, but to himself, no so great. Mac was just an example of the saying: 'sometimes we're our own worst enemy.' Danny should know; he's the same way.

"Do I have to trip you?" he asked in words only the other man could understand.

He clenches his jaw at his words. He would have flinched, but he wasn't going to let that happen. He wasn't going to let the other man see him like this. He fidgets with his wristwatch, pretending to look at the time. He was putting the steel walls back up. He was strapping himself back to the chair. He looks as the time and said "Look at the time… We should get started." He said.

"Huh?" it was more like a caveman's grunt than a question.

"The interview." He said, reaching for his folder and opening it. "You're still looking for a job right." Then looks down on his resume, refusing to look at the owner.


	4. Chapter 4

The words don't completely hit him at first. The primitive grunt of a reply should have showed the other man how startled he was of the sudden change. He shouldn't be so surprised, but he was still by how fast the other man changed the topic. Danny was practically asking for it. In a way, the younger man felt that he deserved Mac's icy change. The friendly chitchat was now over. It was back to the natural balance of boss and job applicant: in this case, hard-ass boss and a shmuck of a job applicant.

"So, you graduated class of '97." He read anatomically from his résumé. He keeps his head down on the folder. He straightens his posture in his seat. Then re-clenched his jaw. His whole disposition goes back to his old, strict and bossy self.

"Yes." He replies. The does the same: adjusts his poise, tie and glasses. "Stephensons Police Academy right here in New York." He added.

"I know where it is." He replied coldly, almost like retaliation for earlier. The other man could only nods. "Then you worked uniform until a couple of weeks ago." He only nods again. "Speak up." He said sternly like it was a command, finally making eye contact.

"Yes, yes I did." He replied almost copying the other man's harsh undertone.

"Why?" he asked, seeing how he would like being interrogated. Then went back to staring on the folder.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

He took a deep breath as if he were disappointed with his question. "Why?" He asked again. "Why do you think you can be CSI?"

"I think I'd be good at It." he replied almost arrogantly.

"You think?" he asks in the same manner.

"Yes." He answered, trying not to be affected by how he was speaking to him. "I mean I never planned to be. It wasn't a childhood dream or anything. I didn't even know what a CSI until I got into the academy." he explained. "Then I got in. Learned, I was really interested in the forensics side of investigation. The pure science of it all… This was something I was good at."

"Yes you are." He replied. "I can see here you finished top of your forensics class. You had some of the best test scores in chemistry. Its impressive."

"Thank you." he replied. He really was grateful for the praise. He just didn't want him to see him like that. He didn't wan to look like some kind of needy puppy.

"You were even recommended by your commanding officer and teacher." He read. "Officer Dr. Michaels."

"Great teacher, even better man." He replied.

"But still, you know that a steady knowledge of chemistry and physics aren't the only requirements to being a CSI. If it were any lab tech could be one as well." He countered. "I already know you're capable mechanically, but how about as an officer. How are you?"

"What do I think?" he asked him. He was replied by a nod. "I think I'm just as capable in the field as in the lab." He answered confidently.

"Back in the academy, though you had great forensic records, it looks like you had some problem with others, particularly with a Mr. Reese." He checked his disciplinary record. "Would you mind explaining it to me?"

"Reese was a batch mate of mine. He was just the type of person who lets hearsay be the judge others." He answered as honest but as lightly as he could.

"So… There were things about you, rumors that didn't put you under the best of light?" he asked.

He takes a deep breath. "It concerned my name and family history." He answered honestly. "Reese was just quick to bring up that I didn't exactly came out of a squeaky clean family tree and that he didn't want to work with a guy like me."

His words reminded the brunette of the warning he received earlier. This must have been some of the shit Danny went through. The thought made him feel guilty for being so harsh on him. He tires to pull back a bit.

"No one else gave you problems?" he asked "Only Reese?"

"There were others that heard the rumors." He answered "You could say that Reese was just the worst of them."

"So no other problems?" he asked.

"No not really." He answered. "Others were either avoiding me, indifferent or just didn't care."

"Should they?" he asked.

"I don't think it should be an issue." He answered. "My past is my past, I can't change that and I'm not letting it be more than that. If they don't want to work with me, that's their choice. I just want to do my job, right."

His answer impressed him. "Back when you were still in uniform, you only had one partner." He said. "Officer Cortez?"

"Yes." He replied, remembering the man as one of the people who didn't care about his past. "He was a good cop, he's older than me so he kind of taught me things they didn't teach in the academy."

"How is he with you becoming a CSI?" he asked curiously.

"He was supportive. He was old school and he liked us kids doing a better job than they could, seeing as we've gone through a long way since then." he answered, the memory of the older man makes the aquamarine eyed man smile.

"Where is he now?" he asked, curious about his relationship with the other officer.

"Recently retired, it was right after… after 9/11." He answered, fearing how to say those last words.

The emerald-eyed man tries to look unaffected, and coughs out the imaginary lump in his throat. "You do know Officer Cortez wrote on your evaluation that I got from your last workplace."

"Yes. "Danny nods; knowing full well that Cortez had to write something.

"Do you know what he wrote about you?" Not knowing how to answer the older man takes his silence as a yes. "He says, and I quote: Danny is a good cop. He's smart, very smart. He examines every piece of evidence and asks the right questions. He takes his cases to heart and works hard to find the truth and serve justice." He pauses to take a breath. "But sometimes he takes things to the heart too much. He can get emotionally involved and this at times clouds his better judgment. He can be impulsive and takes risks that sometimes backfires. He has made mistakes, but always does his best to fix them. Most of the time he does." He takes another pause. "Though this may set him back a little, he makes up for it with his passion. He has real drive to do what's right. His heart is always in the right place." He takes one final pause. "His method still need refining and he can still learn a lot, but the one thing he has that can't be taught is his determination which makes him great at what he does, end quote." Then looks at the man sitting across his desk.

He listened carefully to every word he said. The first thing he thinks about is 'never knew Cortez was such a softie.' This causes this inner smile in him. The written words of his ex-partner touched him and reminded him of why he puts up with all this shit.

He can see the gratitude in the younger man's eyes. He was sure this was the first time he heard it. He normally wouldn't have done something like that, but he felt like he owed him this much.

"What do you think?" he asked finally putting the folder down.

"Honest man." He jokingly said. This gets the older man smiling and the two relax as the tension that once was hung between them disappeared.

"What do you think?" he repeated his question. "About your impulsiveness."

"Like I said. He's honest." He gets a little serious. "I can be a little too impulsive for my own good. It has cost me in the past and it doesn't exactly make me Mr. Popular." He said honestly. "But I work hard. I do what I can find who ever is responsible and if the means taking a couple of risks I will."

"Do you think you're equipped to make judgment call like that?" he asked.

"Once someone told me: 'do what you got to do as long as you can live with the consequences.'" He answer got the other man's attention. "So as long I can handle the effects of my decision, I think I'm very much equipped." He finished.

They stared at each other for a while, wondering what the other was thinking.


	5. Chapter 5

This was definitely an eventful reunion and job interview. Not in a million years did they think that they'd see each other again, let alone in this situation.

He couldn't believe this was the same kid he met years ago. Mac was impressed. There was a part of him that was truly proud of the younger man. He's becoming a little biased, but he couldn't help it. He saw something in this guy before he even knew him. It was great seeing him go this far.

This felt right. Seeing him again after all these years has got to mean something. He was qualified. He's smart, capable, hear working and passionate. He had everything he could want in a CSI, even more.

But he feared that he was going beyond himself. No matter what, he Mac has always been a logical guy. He may have been unfair to the other applicants. He didn't just want to hire Danny because of their history. He deserved to deserve this job.

Danny didn't want to admit it, but he hoped his answers his questions right. He hoped that Mac would think he's a good candidate for the job. Its not because he needed the job. He hopes he wouldn't hold his earlier insensitivity against him. He really wanted to work for him.

In the last 30 minutes or so, he has realized what was it about this man that made him so important, even if they only met one night years ago. He was someone he could look up to. He had a lot of respect for him. He made him feel capable. He made him feel like he was worth something in life. He challenged him to be better. He gave him the guts to go through everything he went through the pass ten years. He cared. Danny wanted the opportunity to show him what he can do.

"Ok." The man in the navy blue suit said.

"Ok?" he repeated with that one eyebrow up.

"Ok. We'll just call you." he explained, thinking that sleeping on the decision might make some more sense.

"Oh," sounding a little disappointed. "Ok." He repeated.

The blonde stands up and reaches out his open hand. The other man mirrors this and takes his in a handshake. The younger man smiles politely, but he can see his disappointment. They let go and he's about to leave his office. As he watches him leave he got this feeling in the pit of his stomach. He felt like he owed him something.

"Danny." He calls out before he reaches the door, then turns around. The older man walks around his desk. "I'm sorry." He apologizes.

"For what?" he asked with that familiar questioning look.

"For earlier." He answered. "How I was when you brought up Claire. I shouldn't have…"

"Don't apologize." He replied with a hand up as if to stop him. "I shouldn't have pushed it. It was insensitive of me."

"But still." He insisted. "I handled it poorly. It's just…"

"You don't have to explain anything. I was out of line." he replied, reaching to squeeze the other man's shoulder. "It was just me being my stupid impulsive self. Ok?" he asked. When he was replied by a nod, he turned back around to leave.

The blue eyed man's hand had reached the doorknob. "Why?" his question makes the other man turns his head and give him that curious look. "Why the impulse?"

He didn't remove his hand from the knob, only leans on it for support as he thinks of the Mac's new question. "Because… I was concerned." He answered honestly.

"You know you don't have to be." He said.

"I know I don't have to be. I just was." He looks at the older man standing there almost asking for more of his explanation. He takes his breath and continues. "It's only been two weeks, two weeks since then and you're here interviewing me. It just doesn't feel right. It was like seeing you running away again. I know you think you don't run, but you do, so I thought I'd trip you again."

His words hit him right in the chest. He hadn't thought about it that way. "You should know by know what happens when you trip a US marine." Trying to make light of the too touchy situation.

"I know, and I deserved it… but it was worth It." he said, just as he was about to turn the knob.

"What do you mean?" he asked, stopping him again from leaving.

"I knew there would be consequences to what I was trying to do." He began to answer. "If I wanted to get hired, I shouldn't have said what I said. But if I didn't do it now, I wouldn't be able to again. I'm sure if you'd be my boss that you'd never let me talk to you like that. I had to trip you." He explained. "I just couldn't let you run anymore."

He wasn't expecting that. He didn't think anyone would care about him like that, let alone him. He hasn't seen him in years and he does something like this. He's got friends, good friends even, but no one has been that honest with him. No one has ever told him anything like that before.

That was the kind of impulsiveness that Officer Cortez talked about. It was this gut feeling for doing the right thing. It made him brave enough to take down that gunman at Carmine's years ago. It made him say what he said. They were the exact words he needed to hear, and from that he knew. He knew what he'd do.

He felt like this would be the last time he'd be able bear himself like that to Mac again. They may never talk like this again, so he had to take full advantage of it. If he wasn't going to hire him, he might as well have been honest with him. He owed him that much. He opens the door and was about to leave.

"Danny." He calls, he turns to him. "Thanks."

"No problem." He replied.

"Oh and you're right." He continued as he walked back behind his desk.

This catches the young man's attention. "About what?"

"About earlier." He answered. "I wouldn't let you talk to me like that, if I were your boss." His words didn't make sense to the blonde. "So I think you won't be able to for a while, from now on."

He was still a little confused, but slowly realized the magnitude of what he was saying. "You mean?"

"You got the job." he answered and this makes the other man smile. "How's tomorrow for you?" he asked and the other man's smile grew wider.

"Its good." He chokes out.

"Ok." He said then sat down. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"See you." he replied. "And thanks. Thanks a lot." He added then walked out his office with the biggest smile on his face.

Stella looks at her partner sitting behind his desk. His smile speaking volumes of what had just happened. The young bespectacled stranger, with a huge grin, walks down the hall. She didn't know who this guy was, but she was sure she'd find out eventually.

"Hi." She said with a smile as she steps in front of him with her hand out. "I'm Stella, welcome."

"Hi." He replied, still smiling. "I'm Danny, Danny Messer."


	6. Chapter 6

_**MAC TAYLOR**_

He swivels his chair around to face the window and closed his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He leaned into his seat, his soft headrest giving justice to its name. Then he takes a deep breath: In through the nose and out through the mouth, as if his weariness and headache could be easily expelled as he exhales. It's been a long and tiring day. His mind was exhausted. His legs cramped and his eyes sore by the constant reading of case files and resumes. He shouldn't complain as much. He knows his job could be a lot tougher when he's in action. But the desk jobs: paper work, phone calls and interviews were tough because of the lack of action.

To be honest, the lack of action didn't continue into the day. It wasn't the kind of action like chasing a perp down busy streets or getting a hit in codas. It was the kind that drained him emotionally. He wouldn't look like it to many people, but he had just been through a roller coaster ride of strong emotions today, but unlike a roller coaster all of this was unexpected.

He mentally rewinds and replays what happened today: what he was doing before he walked in, how he walked in and how they reacted to each other, as if doing so might make it more believable. He must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He still can't fully wrap his head around the fact that that kid he met in Staten Island years ago, that guy who nearly ran him over, apologized by buying him a pizza and helped him when no one else was there, walked in his office looking for a job. He smiles to himself thinking about how twisted fate could be.

"Hey." That familiar and kind voice said behind him.

"Hi." He replies turning his seat and facing her with a smile. He was about to stand when the curly-hair woman took the seat across from him. He looks at her dubiously. "What is it?" he asked.

"Oh nothing." She was smiling in a way that made him suspicious. He knows he well enough to know that Stella Bonasera doesn't just smile like that for no reason. "I met him," he added. He then shot her a look that only asked 'who?' "Danny the new guy."

"Oh, That's good." he replies. "So what do you think?"

"Think?" she asked in mock innocence.

"What do you think about him?" he rephrased his question.

"What do I think?" again in mock innocence. "I think he's nice, young… cute." She answers and he nods along. "And you think highly of him."

He doesn't reply at first, taken aback by what she said. "Of course I do." He replied. "I hired him."

"Yes." She agrees. "But there's something else, something you're not telling me."

"What is that suppose to mean?" he asked, sounding a little protective.

"Mac, I'm not blind." She answered. "I saw you with him."

"Are you accusing me of something Stella?" he asked, still protective.

"Yes." She answered unapologetically. "Of hiding something from me, now spill it out. What is it about this guy?" she asked.

"Nothing really." He answered flatly. "He's just a good kid: graduated at Stephensons, top 5 of his batch and top of his forensics class. Everything we could want in a 3rd grade CSI."

"Mac, everyone who came in today were, in someway, qualified for 3rd grade CSI." She countered. "But this guy was different. Why?"

He didn't know what to say. Actually he did know, he just didn't know how to say it. "He just seemed right for the job." he answered as best he could.

"I'm sure he is." She replied. "But why were you different with him?" she asked stubbornly.

"I wasn't giving him any special treatment, if that's what you mean." He answered as he stood up.

"I didn't say you did." She corrected and stood up as well. "It's just that…" she tries to find the right words. "I don't know… you smiled."

"And that shocks you?" he asked rhetorically as he was putting on his jacket that hung from the back of his chair.

"Mac, I haven't seen you smile since…" she was about to say it, when she say the expression on her friends face that told her she didn't have to. "…In a long time."

"Yeah," he replied. The friendly camaraderie feel of the room went down and had this slight tension came between them. It was like pointing out the elephant in the room. "It has been a while." He added, as he was about to get lost in those bad thoughts again.

"I don't know." Her words brought him back to the present. "It just looked like you knew him," she said. Expecting him to deny it, she was surprised when the expression on his face the complete opposite. "That's it isn't it? Before he even came in."

"I did, know him I mean." He admitted. "But I didn't know he was coming in. I had no idea."

"So it wasn't some kind of favor to get him a job?" she asked.

"No," he was quick to say as he picked up a couple of files from his desk. "I met him only once about ten years ago. I didn't know him that well. I didn't even know his full name until he came in today. I was just surprised."

"Was he in the marines with you?" she asked.

"Him, no." he answered and leaned on the edge of his desk as his partner began to interrogate him. "We just bumped into each other one night. It was fleet week, summer of 1991." Smiling at the thought of what 'bumped' really meant. "We ate, drank and he helped me find my way."

"You got lost?" she asked a little amused.

"Lets just say I was running to no where and he stopped me before I went too far." He explained. She nodded along, though not fully understanding her friend's words. "It was nice seeing him again… But that's not why I hired him. He really is a gifted police officer and I think he'd really be good for the team."

"I'm sure he is. You wouldn't have hired him if he didn't." she replied.

"No, I wouldn't." he said as he adjusted his coat, put his case files in his briefcase and was about to leave.

"Mac, where you going?" she asked.

"Out." He answered stoically.

Her eyes widened in surprise. "You haven't left this office in a week." He was about to correct her when she cut him off. "Bathroom breaks don't count."

"That's why I need to go out." He replied with a small smile.

In all the years that she has known Mac, she knows she shouldn't have to ask him this question but she was compelled to. "You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure" he answered like he was out of breath. "I've got to stop running."

Knowing full well what his words were implying, she asked in concern "Are you sure you're ready for that?"

"I have to be." He answered as breathlessly. "At some point."

She closed the space between them and gave him a friendly and supportive hug. He returns the favor and wrapped his arms around her tightly, but not as tightly as two weeks ago. She pulls back a little and gives him a small peck on the cheek.

He lets go of her. He picks up his bag and walks pass her. He walks out the room, for the first time in what felt like a long time. He walks through the corridors and looks through the other glass walls and politely nods or waves a goodbye. A good portion of the lab shocked by the sight of seeing him leave this early, not knowing what else to do but wave or nod back. He uses the elevator to go down to the underground garage where his SUV was parked since last Sunday. He presses on his key chain and hears that familiar 'beep beep' as the lights blink twice. He opens the car door, climbs in. As he leans in to put his briefcase on the passenger seat, he notices something glisten on the passenger seat's floor. He reaches out, feeling the carpeted floor and feels something small between his thumb and index finger. He leans back into the driver seat and finally takes a look at what he found.

It was a pearl earring. It was her pearl earring. She must have dropped it before… His chest tightened and he got this lump in his throat before he could finish the thought. He didn't have to.

He hits the back of his head on the headrest and closed his tearful eyes. Small streams of tears began to fall down his cheeks. He bit his lips to stop a whimper from passing through his lips, so no one else could hear him, not even himself. He grasps the small jewelry in his closed fist, practically shaking from the tight hold. It was so small, but he could feel it: the round pearl, the ridge of the lock and that thin, short wire that went through her earlobe.

It was so small, but he could feel it. He could feel her. It was a small piece of her. And it was only one, small piece of her. How could he go back? Back to their apartment, where everything would remind him of her. He couldn't even handle this, let alone their home. He'd be surrounded by her. How could he go back to that?

He begins to breathe deeply. He swallows the lump in his throat. He crushed his eyes close to let out all the tears that could come out, so he could wipe them clean. He puts the earring in his left jacket pocket. Then reaches for his phone.

He looks at his phone-book and the first person he thinks of calling is Stella. He looks at how the screen highlighted her name and rethinks calling her, thinking how ridiculous it would be to call her in the garage right below the building she was in. He rethinks the option even more thinking how ridiculous it would be to call her help after telling her, no more than five minutes ago, he was ready. He couldn't call her and say that he couldn't even turn the engine on without breaking down. He couldn't call her.

He lets his hands fall on his lap hopelessly, not knowing whom else he could turn to. He was frustrated but only to himself. There was no one else to blame but himself. He put himself into this position. He said he was ready. He was sitting in his car alone and he couldn't bring himself to turn the damn ignition on because he had no idea where to go. Why did he ever think he was ready for this?

That question ran in his mind only once and the answer came to him as clearly as the engine would sound if he turned it on. He turns to the passenger seat and rummages in his bag. He knows it's in here somewhere. He finds this folder and flips through it. He finds the number he's been looking for and punches the numbers on his cell phone. He presses the call button and brings it to his ear.

'Ring…'


	7. Chapter 7

_**DANNY MESSER**_

'Ring'

The bell on the bar door rang as they came in. Both men were in their sweats. The taller, younger raven-haired man in a navy blue sweatshirt with a basketball under his arm and a duffel bag in the other. He walked two steps behind him in a gray zipped hoddie, revealing a white wife-beater and dog tags hanging around his neck, with his own duffel bag.

"Hey, Bobby." He yells to the bartender who nodded in their direction. "A free round, courtesy of Messer here." He announced with a smile as he playfully held his companion's shoulders.

"What's the occasion?" the bartender asked as he puts two glasses in front of them: one was short with clear amber liquid with some ice in it, the other was tall with dark murky liquid with a thick layer of foam in top.

"He got himself a job." the taller man answers as they leaned on the bar to get their drinks.

"Congratulations Danny." He said with a smile.

"Thanks Bobby." He replied with a smile.

The Don and Danny were playing basketball in the open court one block away. They've been playing there every Thursday afternoon for the past two years. And like clockwork, they'd come in this bar after every game. They'd sit at the same table and get the same thing: Danny had a whiskey on the rocks and Don had himself a tall glass of Guinness. That's how they really got to be friends.

At first Danny just knew of a Don Flack Jr. He first heard about his father, 'the legend' Donald Flack sr. While he was in the academy, he heard that 'the legend's kid, who was a couple of years younger than himself, was following in his old man's footsteps. He'd seen him around, but they never really hung out. They never really officially met. They ran in different circles. Don was a 3rd generation cop, good and well known family, and focused on homicide dept. Dan was a somewhat outcast, a nobody, unless it came to evidence processing. They were in totally different crowds.

Then one day, on a Thursday afternoon, they both went to the exact same court on the exact same time. They didn't know each other, but the other basketball players assumed they did by the police academy duffel bags. A couple of boys challenged them to a game. Though they didn't know each other, they felt they had the responsibility to prove them wrong when they were described to have 'doughnut-guts'. To make the long game, short: Don and Dan scored 12 to 4. Proving guys could still eat Krispy Kreams and play ball. They had to admit they really had fun. They weren't the best at the sport, but they found out something new and better on that court that day. They worked really well together.

They celebrated by getting a drink together. That's how they met Bobby. It was great. They had a couple of drinks and got to talk. It was interesting getting to know the other man. He found out that Don was just a great guy. He was actually pretty normal. He really did come from a great family. He had a loving mother, lovable but annoying sister and his dad.

He mentioned that though his dad was a great role model, he wasn't always there to just be his dad. He didn't want to make a big deal out of it, but he wished his dad could have been there more. This caused the 'not-the-best' father-son relationship. His decision becoming a cop like him made his dad proud, but it was more in a 'look-he-can-do-a-trick' kind of way. This just got them to tolerate each other more.

They talked about the academy. The struggles, challenges and the inside jokes only trainees could understand. Inevitably, they got to talk about their other batch mates, particularly the assholes they had to deal with. He didn't think about it, but Don had to go through a lot of the same shit he went through. His name got in the way of things sometimes. People either kissed his ass or gave him crap for having the surname that he has. Others expected the best of him and ran him in the mud every time he'd make the slightest mistake. Some even had the nerve to accuse him of getting special treatment.

Dan had to bite his tongue at the thought that he was becoming like Reese, judging people by where they came from. The blonde never thought of the son of Don Flack as anything like him. He didn't think he'd have daddy-issues too. He realized that he wasn't just the son of… He was Don. He was a great guy, good cop, new friend and best of all one of the few genuine people that didn't give a crap about his last name.

They got themselves a table right next to the window. They sat across each other. The bar fills up with professionals in for their happy hour. They always got in early enough to get that one great table with a view.

"So," the taller man said after taking a swig of his beer. "Where you say this place was again?"

"It's this crime lab on 31st." he answers then takes a swig of his own.

"When you starting?" he asked.

"Tomorrow." He answers. "Which means I can't stay up too late or drink too much. I don't want to go in my first day with a hang over." He added jokingly.

"31st?" he asked. "Isn't that the lab run by 'the marine tank'?"

"The what?" he asked in confusion, though he had some idea of which his friend was talking about.

"The guy who hired you. He's an ex-marine right?" he asked, then takes another drink.

"Yeah, so what?" he asked, knowing for sure he was talking about Mac. Then took another sip.

"Heard about him a couple of times, referred to him as the marine tank." He answered. "He's this hard ass, impenetrable, unfeeling, precise, basically the closest thing to a tank." The bespectacled man looked at him with that one brow quirked. "Just what I've heard… Any truth?"

"Partially." The shorter man said with 'so-so' expression, not really knowing how to answer. "I mean I don't know him that well." He had to admit that. "I'm sure he's all that, but from what I do know is that he's more than anything we've just heard."

"That bad?" the other man mistook the blonde's for the worst.

"That's not what I mean." He corrected him. "We can't argue how good he is."

"He's got one of the best arrest record." The other man added. "And his crime lab is suppose to be one of the best."

"Yeah, and I'm saying that-" He nods a he continues. "-I think the people saying those kind of stuff about him don't really know him."

"Guess you're right." The raven-haired man nodded in agreement. "I mean, if he really is that bad, why'd he ever hire you." he jokes before taking a drink.

"Very funny." He said sarcastically, lightly kicking the other man under the table causing him to wince.

"But really, no offence." He replied. "Don't you think it's a little weird that he hired you-" he snaps his fingers "just like that."

"What can I say?" he rhetorically asked. "Top of my class." He boasted with a smile.

He chuckles at first. "Still man." He replied a little more seriously. "A lot of people are looking right now. Not just graduates but also a lot of the guys who got laid off after the attack. Today's only been your fourth day looking and 'boom' you got one. You're pretty lucky."

"Yeah… lucky." he replies, slowly understanding what he was talking about and took another sip.

Flack had a point. The job market was really tough right now, especially after 9/11. More folks are getting laid off. Places who needed more people couldn't afford to hire anymore. Even the most qualified of people can't find work. In the world of law enforcement, they wouldn't just hire some guy.

In a way, he wasn't just some guy. He wasn't just top-of-his-class or rumored fuck-up Messer. He was Danny, and to Mac that could mean something totally different. Then this thought was just pushed in the back of his mind: 'Could Mac just have hired me because of what happened ten years ago?'

With that one question planted in his mind, this old poisonous tree began to branch out inside of him again. It's always been buried there, ever since he was little. He doesn't remember when it wasn't a problem. It doesn't matter, what does is that it's back and its called 'self-doubt.'

"Danno!" the taller man calls him out. "Earth to Messer."

"What?" He's startled.

"I asked you; have you met anyone in the lab yet?" he asked, knowing his friend well enough to notice him drift off.

"Hmm…" he clumsily answers, clearly wasn't paying attention earlier. "Yeah, one other person, her name's Stella."

"Stella." The raven-haired man echoed with a grin and wriggled his brows playfully. "Pretty name."

"Pretty girl." He admitted, answering his friend's mental question. "1st grade CSI. I think she's Mac's partner."

"Mac?" his friend said rhetorically.

"Mac Taylor, 'the marine tank'" he answered, playing with the nickname.

"Must have gotten pretty chummy to be in first name basis with you're new boss." He replied with both thick brows raised in surprise.

"Hmm well." He tripped over his words after that one slip. "He was nice." He answered weakly, thinking how chummy they got. Scared of the thought that that was the only reason why he got the job.

"Nice? Wow…" he reacted.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked curiously, sounding a little bit more protective than he should be.

"Nothing man." He answered defensively, with hands up in kind of surrender. "Just surprising that's all. I mean after what happened to him." the blonde quirked an eyebrow as he sipped his beer. "You know, with his wife in the towers."

He nodded, now remembering what he was talking about. "You mean Claire?" he asked solemnly.

"You knew his wife?" the sapphire-eyed man asked curiously and with disbelief.

"No." he was quick to answer. "Never met her," he added defensively.

He's hiding something. He knows Danny and he knows when he's hiding something and his hiding something right now. That wasn't anything new. Though they've known each other for a while and consider him a great friend, he can honestly admit that they don't exactly share life stories, especially Messer. No, their friendship wasn't based on that.

It's based on now, and on what they've been through. Their past was just that: their past. They could freely chose to or not to share it. There have been times they have shared certain information with each other, but it was never forced. Whatever his friend was hiding, he knew he'd tell him if he thought he needed to know.

'Ring… ring… ring…' a cell phone rang.

As if it were some magic word, almost everyone in the bar began to reach into their bags or pockets to check if it were theirs. Both men did the same. Don took his out of his pocket, shaking his head as if to say 'nope, not mine.' Dan rifled through his duffel bag and saw that familiar blue glow.

He takes it out, checking whom it was. But he couldn't because the number was unknown. 'Must be a wrong number.' He thought to himself as he pressed the button and pressed it against his ear.

"Hello. Messer speaking." He greeted politely.

"Dan?" A familiar voice replied. "This is Mac Taylor."


	8. Chapter 8

"Hey." He said, for the lack of a better reply.

"Hey." The older man repeated. "I didn't have your number, so I got this from your resume." He felt the need to explain himself.

"Oh." Still couldn't think of anything to say.

"Yeah," he said. "Just wanted to check if I got it right." Now he felt the need to lie as he explained himself.

"Yeah, it's my number." 'well duh, of course it is.' The blonde mentally scolded himself.

"Yes it is." He said sarcastically thinking to himself. 'Great, pointing out the obvious.'

"So-" he said questioningly. "Is that all?"

"Hmm… Well…" he was tripping over his words again. He wanted to say something, just didn't know what.

He begins to regret calling him. He wasn't responsible. Why should he get him involved? And this isn't the type of thing you'd to with someone you just hired. He's about to apologize and politely hang up his phone. Then maybe go back up to his office. He grips the steering wheel with his free hand and he felt this small tinge pain in the palm of his hand, which caused him to audibly wince.

"What happened?" the man on the other end asked with a concerned voice.

He lets go of the wheel and looks at his right hand. There was blood. It wasn't much, barely a drop. The pearl earring had left a small wound. It was more like broken skin. It wasn't deep or anything. It was just there, and he felt it. He couldn't ignore it.

"Nothing." The emerald-eyed man replied after that short pause. "Dan, are you hungry?"

"What?" the blue-eyed man asked curiously.

"Do you have any dinner plans for tonight?" he rephrased his question.

"No, nothing special." He replied a little more at ease.

"That's good." He repeated and realized how that sounded. "I mean, it's good cause I thought we could grab a bite." There was this pause, as if he was silently asking him to clumsily continue. "You know… like before."

The blue-eyed man thought for a second, he must mean like they did at Carmine's. "You know you don't have to do that."

"I know but I want to." He chuckled quietly, noticing how after ten years their roles would now be reverse. "My treat, just in case it might look bad if you buy your new boss dinner," he added with a smile.

"I don't know about that." he jokingly replied. "My boss is pretty tough, don't think he's the type who could be easily bought."

"I'll take that as your first attempt at brown-nosing." He quips. They both laugh easily. Their earlier nervousness now faded. "So, what do you say?"

The blond paused just a bit, as if he was really putting some thought into it. "Ok." He replied five seconds later.

"Ok." The brunette repeated. "Do you know 'Pack Rats' on the corner of 73rd and 6th?"

"Yeah." He answered.

"Meet you there in 20?" he asked.

"Sure." He replied. Then they both hung up their phones.

_**DANNY MESSER**_

"Who was that?" the younger man asked the man who sat across from him.

"Huh… a friend." He replied vaguely. "Listen, I got to go. I got to meet somebody." He explained as he was putting his phone away.

"Ok." he answered before he could take a drink.

"Ok. Next Thursday?" Danny asked rhetorically with a smile as he picked up his duffel bag and stood up.

"Always." Don answered raising his beer in a mock toast. "Hey, don't stay up to late. You got a big day tomorrow." He added a reminder.

"Yes… mother." Danny jokingly replied which made his friend scowl and gave him the finger, which he only laughed off as he waved goodbye to Bobby and walked out the bar.

_**MAC TAYLOR**_

He put his phone back in his pocket and just sat there for a little while. It was quiet and for all he knew he was alone in that garage. It's just him in his car. With both his hands on the steering wheel, it was like he was waiting for time to start up again.

'What had he just done?' he asked himself. He doesn't normally do this, but ever since Claire he's been second-guessing himself more and more, none more than now. He had just called one of his new employees out for dinner. To his defense, Danny wasn't just a new employee. He wasn't a best friend. He was just this guy he met a long time ago, but he could help him. He didn't know why exactly but that made him a little bit more scared of doing this.

He wasn't the type to go out looking for help, even when he needed it. He even pushed his family away when they offered to stay after the funeral. He just told his coworkers and other friends that he was going to be ok. It was even a struggled to let Stella help him. Why Danny? Why did he think Danny could help him? Why did he even feel like he could ask Danny for help?

He turned on the ignition on and thought to himself 'Whatever the answers may be, it didn't matter. The fact is I already called him and I must have done that for a good reason so I might as well go with it. I'm not backing out, especially not to myself.' He backed up and drove off.

'Pack Rats' was slowly getting packed itself. It wasn't crazy busy, but the place was doing pretty well. It was small and inviting. It had this old, classy 60's vibe, with the curved red and white booths on one side. It was nice and casual. It seemed to be a great place to meet up with a friend.

Mac was already seated in one of the booths skimming the menu. Driving there wasn't actually that difficult, which was odd in New York City. It was more so, because he anticipated some sort of uneasiness about coming, but there wasn't. It was actually relaxing. He didn't try to put any pressure in himself. If he did that, he might do it to Dan. He didn't want that, not now.

Dan just took a short subway ride and walked the rest of the way. It was a pretty good day. The sun was about to set and the city was bathed in this nice afterglow of dusk. It was that time of day that he streetlights, store windows one by one lit the city streets.

He got there in just a little over 20 minutes. He got to the window of the restaurant and peeked inside if he was there already… and he was. He was in the second booth and he was facing the outside. He looked to be reading the menu.

One question was in his mind while getting there. It was there in the subway, there while he was walking down the street and here it was again: 'Why'd he call him?' He just stood there, looking at him, fidgeting with his duffel bag.

He has changed a lot in the last ten years. Its clear to anyone that he's not the same man he was then. And he doesn't want to go back to that. He doubts that Mac wants him to do anything like that but right now he doesn't know what to think. He may have changed, but how can he be sure that's what he saw when he walked in his office earlier that afternoon. Who did he hire? Danny the kid from 1991? Or him now after his family, after the academy?

His train of thought stopped there at the very instant the brunette looked up and saw him through the restaurant window. He waved and gave him a polite inviting smile that the blonde could only return with one of his own.

'He has gone through a lot' the blue eyed young man thought to himself while waving to him. He could only imaging how much Mac has changed through the years: surviving the Gulf war and then trying to survive after Claire. He's about to go in there and have dinner with Mac. The problem is, which Mac? Mac his boss? Or Mac from ten years ago? Then walked in to find the answers his questions.

"Glad you could make it." the emerald eyed man said with a smile as he stood up and offered his hand to the newly arrived customer.

"Sorry I'm late." The blue eyed young man replied taking the other man's hand in a handshake. Then they both sat across from one another.

"Did you just come from the gym before this?" he asked, noticing the younger man's workout attire and his hair a little damp with sweat.

"Ah… yeah." He answered, wiping the sweat off his face. "Played some hoops with a friend of mine." He added, putting his duffel bag right next to him.

"Who won?" he asked.

"Still to be determined." He answered jokingly making he other man chuckle. The waitress comes by bringing the new arrival a glass of water, then jotting down their orders and took he menu with her as she left. "Doesn't really matter. I still had to buy a free round of beer for everyone."

"Yeah?" the brunette asked curiously.

"Yeah." He answered, more animatedly. "Seeing as I just got me a job now."

"Oh really…" the older man said in mock surprise. "Congratulations."

"Thanks." He replied in an easy chuckle.

Everything seemed to be going fine. He didn't know what he was really expecting. He knew his paranoia was getting the best of him since Mac called him earlier.

This seemed easy enough. No pressure, this is just a casual meal between old friends. He still has no idea why he called him. He just knew he needed to call someone and Stella was out of the question. But now their here, what?

"So… how have you been Dan?" he asked.

"Since this afternoon?" the younger man asked confusingly.

"No, I mean since… since then." he implied vaguely. Though vague, the other man understood. The expression on his face was a bit of surprise, not knowing that they'd be talking about that. His lack of anything to say caused him to nervously drink his water. "Don't worry Dan. You've already gotten the job. The interview is over." The brunette explained with a polite smile.

"Oh." He said after swallowing his sip. For a minute there, he thought that Mac called him to take the job back. Seeing that the setting was just like the firing scene in 'Jerry McGuire'.

"I mean you found out about…" can't say her name, but he doesn't have to. "And all I know about you is what I read from your resume." He recovered quickly.

"Oh." He started to remind himself of a broken record. "It's just that a lot has happened." Which was true. "Don't know where to start."

"How about from the beginning?" he suggested. "If you want to."

"I do." He replied quickly. Then took a deep breath. "Well, like I said… a lot has happened. I'm a cop now. Most of that was already in my resume. I actually started a couple just a couple of months since you and I met… What you said helped." He admitted appreciatively, remembering that night.

"They were just words Dan." He said humbly. He couldn't believe he had helped him as much as he did.

"Doesn't matter." He replied. "They meant something to me."

Those simple words stabbed him out of no where. "I'm glad I could help." Was all he could say. Before the blue eyed man could say anything else, the waitress came bring them their food.


	9. Chapter 9

Their eyes widened and their smiles broaden as their plates were placed right in front of them. The aroma tickled their nose. The food was warm and inviting. Danny was served lemon chicken with as small salad on the side while Mac got a medium rare sirloin steak.

The brunette took a sip of his water before he got to his food and was surprised when the blonde had offered him the hot sauce. He smiled and nodded a thank you. "You remembered?" He said more as a statement than a question.

"How could I forget?" he chuckled. "I've never seen anyone use so much hot sauce."

"I never actually got to thank you properly for that night." He replied.

"What are you talking about?" he asked rhetorically. "I owed you remember? I almost ran you over. I had to do something to make it right."

"No you didn't." he repeats what he said many years ago.

"Yes I did." He insists. "And plus… it all worked out for the better." He added.

"Yeah, it did." He replied.

They sat there, eating their meal in a comfortable silence. Their last few words ending in a pleasant tone. No pressure, no intensity in the air, it was just this light, quiet time between the two.

"Mac." The bespectacled man called to him.

"Huh?" Without making eye contact, the older man replied muffled by the food in his mouth.

"Why did you call me?" he asked bluntly with sincere curiosity.

He finally looks at him, his chicken barely eaten. "Like I said, I thought we could have dinner, before we actually get to work with each other." Then looks back down on his food, hiding behind the half-truth.

"Really?" he asked, cautiously.

"Really." He reassured him, still looking at his steak.

"And that's all?" he asked; now a little irritated.

"That's all." He replied irritated himself. "God Danny, what's with the questions?" he asked, the wrinkle between his brows deepened. "Can't a man just buy a friend dinner?" he asked rhetorically.

"I don't know." He replied.

"Then why did you come?" he asked, practically stabbing the sirloin.

"Cause you called me." He answered.

'That's right.' The green eyed man thought to himself. 'I called him.' he just remembered. Embarrassed by how he was acting, he began to calm down. He took deep breaths and leaned on back in his seat. The wrinkle above his nose eased a little.

"I'm sorry Dan." He apologized, his face more compunctious.

"It's ok." He replied, forgetting his earlier worries. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's nothing." He replied automatically.

"Mac, you wouldn't have shanked your steak for nothing." He lightly quipped, pointing at how the other man's steak knife was standing on an angle through the sirloin, which gets him to grin a little. "What's wrong?" he asked again.

He takes a deep breath, not knowing what to say. Actually it was more like, knowing what he had to say but not knowing how. Why he had such a problem with communicating at this level he never knew, and never really tried to find out. For two weeks, he has needed and wanted to say something but couldn't or wouldn't, never more so than now. Maybe that's why he called him.

"I tried to go home today." He said. The other man just shrugs, not fully understanding what he said. "I haven't been home since…" still can't say it. "For two weeks." Changing what he couldn't say.

"Oh." The blonde said, now understanding what he had meant.

"Yeah… I thought I was ready. I thought I could." He replied breaking eye contact then brushed over his left jacket pocket. "Then before I could, I remembered her and it hit me all over again and I realized I wasn't ready. I couldn't go home yet." He paused a little, biting his lower lip. "Then I remembered you, ten years ago and how we talked. And how it was so easy… and how it didn't change."

A few seconds of silenced ticked on before he asked. "That why you called me?"

"Most likely." He answered almost like he was choosing which scenario 'most likely' happened in a recent case.

"Most likely." He replied with a tiny grin at how mechanical it sound coming from him.

"I didn't know what to expect." The older man said.

"This?" he jokingly and rhetorically asked with hands wide open pointing at their current situation.

He chuckles a bit, glad the other man's sense of humor was still intact after everything that had just happened. "I'm sorry Danny. I shouldn't have gotten you involved. This isn't your problem." He apologized again.

"Mac, it's ok." He reassured him. "Anything I could do to help."

"I know. You just don't have to." he replied. "I just hired you today and already I'm compromising our working relationship."

"Hey, we're not working yet." He replied. "Right now you're eating with a friend, not an employee." He assured him.

"Thanks Dan." He said with a polite smile. "It's just been so…" he added and trailed.

"Difficult?" attempted to finish his sentence.

"Messed up… as you put it earlier: really messed up." He said with tired eyes.

"I can't disagree with you there." He replied.

"Did you lose someone that day?" he asked.

"I don't know anyone who didn't lose someone that day. A lot were friends or family of people I knew." He answered. "But no, I didn't lose anyone as significant."

"Good, that's good… I wouldn't have wanted you too." He replied his eyes now a little more misty than before and they were both silent

"Haven't you talked with anyone yet?" he asked after the short pause.

"Can't." he answered.

"Not even Stella?" he asked.

"Especially Stella. I told her I was ok. I told her that I was ready." He explained. "I can't just go back to her and let her know that I couldn't even make it out of the garage without falling apart. I can't let her worry about me… not anymore."

"It's cause she cares about you Mac. I mean you've known each other for years." He replied.

"Seven." He cuts him off and the other man quirks his eyebrow at him. "We've known each other for seven years, worked with each other through most of it." he added and took a deep breath before continuing. "She tried. She really tried to help me, and she did. She's been the only reason why I've been able to survive the last two weeks. I owe her a lot."

"She cares about you a lot." he replied.

"And I care about her…" he said. "That's why I can't go back to her, not now. I don't want her to worry about me anymore."

The younger man nods, understanding what he meant. "That's why I'm here." He said lightly, brightening up the mood.

"That's right… thanks." He replied with a smile and they both chuckled.

"No problem." He replied, raising his glass in a mock toast before taking a sip.

"Dan," the brunette called to him as he was drinking his water. "Why did you think I call?"


	10. Chapter 10

_So sorry to disappoint but I already have an ending in mind. I'm not the type to have long stories like a series. I like them a little short with an ending open for interpretations. All I can say is this could be the second to the last part._

_Thanks so much for the reviews... greatly appreciated._

_BM D_

He coughed up some of the water he was drinking. He suddenly remembers what Flack had brought up earlier about how 'lucky' he was to get a job right now. Questioning why Mac had hired him and then questioning why'd he wanted to have dinner with him. God, he could be so egotistical. Here he was thinking about himself, and now finding out that Mac just needed to call someone.

"Huh?" he asked trying to recover his composure. He swallowed the rest of his water, wiped his lips and put down the glass. "What do you mean?"

"You just seemed a little wound up. Then when I told you why I called you seemed a little surprised." He explained, and waited for a reply. "Why did you think I called?"

"It's just… I don't know." He clumsily tried to answer, contemplating lying about it.

"Dan, it's ok. You can tell me." He assured him encouragingly. "Like you said: you're not eating with your boss right now. You're eating with a friend. So what's wrong?" he asked.

That's when the younger man knew. He's not just some big shot department head or ex-marine. He's still the guy he talked to on that summer night of '91. He couldn't lie to him, not to Mac. He respected him too much.

"I thought you might have made a mistake-" His answer getting that questioning look from the older man. "-Hiring me."

"What?" he asked in disbelief.

"And I thought you called me to fix it." he added, emphasizing on the 'fix it' part.

"You mean fire you?" he asked. "Danny…"

"Mac I'm not an idiot." He cuts him off. "I know how hard the job market is these days. Even guys more qualified and experienced then me aren't finding any jobs."

"Dan, you're a talented cop." He reassures the young man. "We're lucky to have you."

"Yeah 'lucky'." The word said so sarcastically. "I'm really lucky, seeing as I've been blackballed them. Whoever 'they' are." The older man just has the same confused look on his face. "Don't tell me they didn't get to you. I know I've made some enemies. Like my resume said: 'behavioral problems.' I got a reputation and my past doesn't help me one bit. There are a lot of people who are eager to prevent a kid like me from being a cop." His voice drops sadly.

The way the blonde had used the term 'they', reminded the brunette of the warning call he got before he came in his office. 'They' must be pretty pissed off to do something this low. He didn't want to think that like that could actually have the nerve and power to pull it off.

"You're nothing like what they say you are." He tried to reassure him.

"So they did get to you?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Danny…" he tries to explain.

"Tell me Mac," he cuts him off. "Were you warned?" he asked, emphasizing 'warned' with sarcastic quotation hand gestures, and glared at him waiting to be answered.

"Someone did call." The brunette reluctantly confirmed.

"Huh, what they say?" he chuckles dryly and asked. "That I'm a little fuck-up? I'm nothing but talk and attitude? Did they tell you about my family?"

"It's not important." He quickly replied.

"Why?" He asked.

"You're so much more than they could ever possibly be." He explained. "That's why they're giving you a hard time."

"How do you know that Mac?" he asked. "How could you be so sure of what I am? What I can be?" he took a breath. "How can you be certain that I'm not what they say I am?"

He didn't know exactly what the young man had to go through, but how he described his situation from before and seeing him now: there had been big and important change in his life. Whatever he did to get his life around, it took a lot of hard work and he did it. That should mean something.

"Because you're here in spite of them." he answered. "Danny, you're not just some kid. I wouldn't have hired you if you were."

"So you're telling me you didn't hire me because you knew me?" he asked suspiciously. "You didn't hire me because of ten years ago?"

"Is that what this is about? Danny, how could you think that?" the emerald eyed man asked rhetorically. The blue eyed young man only shrugged can't explain himself. "I'll be honest: It was good seeing you today, surprising, but good. After how everything changed in the last couple of days, it felt good seeing something, in this case someone from my past. Someone that stayed the same, but changed for the better, much better... I'm proud of you."

No one has ever told him that before, not even the few that cared about him, let alone his family. He anticipated Mac to tell him a few things, but he never expected that.

"Really?" he asked, genuinely taken aback by the sentiment.

"Really. That's why I hired you." The older man replied. "It's not because of who you were. It's because of whom have you become. I mean look at you now." He raised his hand to him for emphasis. "From the kid who was scared of his own family because of what he wanted to be. Now you've graduated top of your class. You're a hard-working, law-abiding citizen serving and protecting the people of New York City… You survived 9/11 for God sakes!" he pauses, trying to calm himself down.

The older man didn't purposely choose to bring that up again. Mentioning it brought back small flashes of memories. But instead of those almost nightmare like bits of memory of screams and debris it normally reminded him, this reminded him of something good that came out that day.

How he used the word 'survived' made him realize that he too survived that day. He came out hurt and beaten but he was still able to come out of it. That tragedy brought a lot out of the people of New York. It brought out their strength at a time of fear. It brought out the good in spite of the horror. And if he would ever forget that he had hundreds of heroic firefighters, paramedics and police officers to remind him… and to think Danny was actually one of them.

"Danny." He calmly called for his attention. The blonde finally looks at him in the eye. "You are a good cop and an even better man. I know that and I do not need people to tell me otherwise…" he put his hand out. "I'm proud to have you on my team." He added with a smile.

He smiles back. 'I must he grinning from ear to ear' he thought to himself and took his boss's hand. "I'm proud to be on you team." he replied.


End file.
